


Fuga

by moroiulmeu



Series: Amadeus: Lost Scenes Series [7]
Category: Amadeus (1984)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroiulmeu/pseuds/moroiulmeu
Summary: After several days of harrowing nightmares Mozart decides Salieri could do with some time off and some travel... Or rather some misadventures.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide if I want to go with this title or not... May be a fun challenge but does it fit the nature of the work? We'll see. Consider it a working title. As always, if anyone could correct my Italian I would love you dearly.

It had been nearly two years since Mozart had first asked Salieri to let his hair grow out, and at that time he had no idea what to expect. Even as short as it had been Salieri's hair had curled slightly, but slightly had not prepared Mozart for the chaotic ringlets that grew from the court composer's head in every direction, soft, thick, and entirely untameable. Highlights of grey already shown through the raven black, adding a mark of distinguishment to the disorder. Mozart found himself running his hands through Salieri's hair with pleasure every chance he got.  
He grinned watching Salieri sleep as he toyed with it, wrapping the curls through his fingers lightly. He let them fall and brush his jaw then his lips. Salieri stirred but only curled closer to him.  
Mozart kissed his forehead and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth. He hadn't realized that Salieri's breathing had changed until he felt the long fingers brush his arm lovingly.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, you just looked so lovely and peaceful..." Mozart whispered sheepishly.  
Salieri smiled without opening his eyes.  
"Shh... Please, I would rather be woken up like this any night."  
Mozart frowned slightly, puzzled, but contented himself for now with petting Salieri's hair and neck.  
"Nightmares," Salieri explained, "For so many years... The first night I held you they stopped."  
"Adone..."  
Salieri pulled Mozart closer and dropped his head in the crook of his neck.  
"It's okay now," Salieri said sleepily.  
Mozart smiled and happily buried his face in the curls.  
"Yes, it is."

Mozart screwed up his face against the sun, having no desire to leave the bed or Salieri's loving embrace, he enjoyed the long limbs wrapped around him safely and the warm breath against his skin far more than Rosenberg's nigh demonic screeching.  
"Buongiorno, mio dolce lupo..." Salieri murmured lowly, hugging him tighter. He nibbled at Mozart's neck.  
Mozart closed his eyes in satisfaction.  
"Buongiorno, Adone..."  
He felt Salieri get up and he groaned in audible dissapointment.  
"Sorry lupo, there are things to be done today."  
Mozart looked at him, admiring the sun against Salieri's bronze skin. His eyes flickered over the scars and rested briefly at the one left from the knife wound in his side. He got up lazily as Salieri was locating clothes and idly let his fingers slip over the mark, lost in thought. He kissed his side gently.  
"Lupo, I'm just as disgruntled as you are about the whole thing but-"  
Mozart set a finger to his lips, biting his own.  
"Adone, do you remember talking last night?"  
"Before we went to bed or after?"  
"After, when I woke you. Which, I'm sorry, by the way."  
Salieri shrugged.  
"Not really, why?"  
Mozart held out his hands.  
"No reason."  
Salieri stopped and looked at him levelly.  
"What's on your mind, Wolfgang? I can hear it from here."  
"You said you used to wake up with nightmares a lot."  
Salieri nodded.  
"And?"  
"A few years ago, when you were out, you did a lot of muttering and yelling in Italian. We thought maybe it was the fever... But it wasn't, was it?" Mozart said somewhat anxiously.  
Salieri stood there silently, a slight frown on his face and his expression distant.  
"What did I say?" He asked finally, unsure if he wanted the answers, his mouth dry.  
"Mostly a lot of protesting... A little screaming... A lot of it was just sort of garbled with your cold... What did you mean by 'non toccarmi, fa male?'"  
Salieri swallowed and let out a shaky sighed, then tried to smile.  
"It's over now," he said, "That's all that matters."  
Mozart nodded, doubtful.  
"I need to get going before Rosenberg is irrate... I'll see you in a bit."

"This libretto is still the worst thing in Vienna," Mozart sighed several hours later as he sat at the piano composing, "I thought two flutes were bad... Eighty of them? What circle of Hell is this?"  
"The lost one," Salieri replied from where he half hung off the couch listening, "Where it's just a thousand flautists and Da Ponte playing this damn thing for all eternity."  
"It's craptasicular... I can't believe Da Ponte wrote this."  
"Are we sure he wrote it? It doesn't sound like him."  
"Are you saying he's pawning someone else's work off as his own? But why something so horrible? And why take two years to rewrite it?"  
Salieri held out his hands with a sigh. Mozart frowned, it was an attitude he had displayed since that morning.  
"Bello, you're overthinking," Mozart said, letting his fingers wander around the keys, "Now who is being loud? I'm sorry I upset you earlier."  
Salieri waved a hand in dismissal.  
"Lupo, was that really all I said?"  
Mozart stopped playing, concerned. He stood and went over to the couch as Salieri sat up.  
"Adone," he began, taking Salieri by the face, "If you said anything else I didn't understand it," He kissed Salieri's forehead with a smile, "Be easy, love."  
Salieri dropped his forehead against Mozart's with a sigh, taking Mozart's hands in his own.  
"You can talk to me," Mozart offered quietly, "It's okay... Did something happen with Rosenberg?"  
The court composer hugged him tightly, hiding his face in the mess of blond hair, rocking.  
"Antonio...?" Mozart asked, worried, "Hey, I'm sorry, it's okay, really, I'm here... My sweet Salieri, you're safe, I promise..."  
"I know..."  
Mozart kissed his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck. Even now, years later Salieri remained mostly walled off. Sometimes he would let Mozart peer around the cracks, catching glimpses of his soul and of his past but seldom more than that. Mozart had no desire to pry anything open, concerned that it would hurt the man even worse, but sometimes Salieri's reactions to different things made his heart stop in fear.  
"I wish I could help you more," he said softly, "I wish I could take whatever is hurting you away. I love you, and I'm sorry that I can't... I'm not going to ask you to tell me, but I am going to remind you that you don't have to carry it alone."  
He felt Salieri's grip on his jacket tighten as a shudder ran through his body.  
"And if you need me to strangle Rosenberg I swear I will. Just give me the word."  
Salieri snorted and Mozart grinned in triumph.  
"That's it... Just breathe."

That earth shattering shriek that awoke Mozart that night made him nearly leap out of his skin. He sat upright in bed and reached for Salieri, catching his arm in the dark.  
"Adone? Hold on..."  
Mozart fumbled around and lit a few candles. Salieri sat there half frozen, breathing hard, his face drawn and his eyes wide. Mozart bit his lip, thinking of all the times he had woken up with nightmares, especially after he had been rescued from Leopold. Salieri had comforted him quietly, tenderly.  
"May I touch you?" Mozart asked, knowing better than to assume.  
He gave the barest of nods and Mozart slowly pulled him into a hug. He didn't speak at first, not knowing what to say, so instead he simply sat there, letting Salieri calm down in peace. He settled on starting to sing in a hushed tone. It had been a long time since he had sang for anyone except Karl and Franz, with the exception of when Salieri had been out cold and Mozart had feared the worst. To his relief Salieri fell still, listening. Mozart watched his eyes slip shut and he smiled tiredly with satisfaction. He kept singing for awhile, until he knew for sure Salieri was asleep. He sat there the rest of the night, alternating between watching him sleep and losing himself in his thoughts. He traced the deeper scars in Salieri's face with his finger tips fondly by the flicker of the candlelight.  
"Please let me in... Let me help," He whispered.

"Wolfgang..." The Court Composer began in irked tones.  
Salieri's mood had hardly improved several mornings later and Mozart was unable to hide his concern. He kept starring at Salieri, watching him closely. Salieri's nightmares had been ruthless and the dark circles around his eyes made them appear more hollow than they really looked.  
"Please stop. I feel like I'm on display."  
Mozart dropped his gaze to his plate.  
"Sorry."  
They fell quiet and Mozart sat picking at his food with his fork gloomily. Neither of them spoke as they prepared for the day.  
Mozart wrestled with himself internally, trying to decide how best he could help Salieri. Was there anyone that might know him better? Mozart wasn't sure, but what he did know is that Salieri would refuse to ask for help or time to relax if his life depended on it.  
"I have an errand to run," Mozart said finally as Salieri sat down to work on his latest composition.  
Salieri studied him silently before nodding.  
"Be safe, ti amo."  
"Ti amo, Antonio..."  
Mozart slipped out the door and stood behind it, feeling strangely disoriented. He looked around at the artwork in the hall, taking a moment to calm down. His eyes raked over the paintings, the statues, and then fell on a globe. An idea began to form in his mind and without even waiting for Salieri's servant he grabbed his coat and set off out the door heading straight for the palace.

After much pleading and insistence that it was of the utmost importance he be allowed to see Joseph II he was finally admitted with great irritation from the staff.  
"Mozart, this is a surprise," Joseph II greeted warmly, "What may I do for you?"  
Mozart bowed deeply.  
"Your Majesty... I'm sorry to have plagued your guards for... Well it must have been well over an hour... I need to speak with you, it's urgent, about Antonio..."  
Joseph II's smile fell, his face paled and he sat up seriously.  
"Leave us," He ordered everyone else, "What about him?"  
"Sir, he's unwell... He doesn't know I'm here, but, I think, maybe if he just had a little bit of time, some space to breathe, maybe go and travel a little, get some fresh air..."  
Joseph II was silent, his expression tormented. He nodded slowly.  
"Nightmares?"  
"Yes, sir..."  
"I saw him the other day in the hall... Herr Mozart, I am not the fool so many think, and our dear Antonio means more to me than I can say, and I know to you as well. Did he ever speak with you about when you went missing?"  
Mozart shook his head, puzzled.  
"Not in detail, sir."  
Joseph II nodded again.  
"I see... Of course he wouldn't. When my guards brought him in I was shocked to see him in such a poor condition, if I knew they would more or less bring him back to me bleeding to death I would have had them executed on the spot. Letting them live in fear of his wrath is suitable enough, I suppose, not to mention mine. But I'm getting off track... When they brought him in I dismissed them to speak with him in private. He was very much in a state, I had not seen him that upset since he was a boy, so afraid he was for you. I had difficulty in getting him to explain at first, when I did get him to speak it came out in a flood and he told me everything... Everything, Herr Mozart."  
Mozart stood there frozen, his heart slamming against his chest in fear. Joseph II held up a hand.  
"Calm yourself, but know this, if any harm comes to that man again I will bring up the wrath of Hell and knock down the Heavens if I have any divine rights at all. I ask that you do not hurt him, that you keep him safe, which in turn, means keeping yourself safe. If anything were to happen to you he would be devastated, and having nearly lost you twice make no mistake the situation would be dire. I do not want to lose my Court Composer, Herr Mozart. I ask that if you desire this for him you do not let him go alone... He needs you, Mozart, more than you know, and you need him. You go with him, you keep him safe, you get him back home in one piece, you don't let him get hurt... You also offer him the space he needs."  
Mozart was unable to help standing there with his jaw hanging open in shock.  
"Antonio is very dear to me, Mozart, I will not see his blood spilled again. I will not lose him. As long as I live no more harm will befall that man without extreme reprecussion."  
Mozart nodded.  
"Thank you, your majesty," he said hoarsely.  
"I will see you both off, of course... And Mozart...?"  
"Yes, your majesty?"  
"Give him my blessing."

Mozart left the palace numbly, starring at his feet, wondering what on earth had just happened, and wondering how he could possibly tell Salieri.  
He found him standing in the study playing the violin, his dark brows knit in concentration as he worked out the middle of a piece, pausing here or there to make a correction. Mozart winced at how dark the music sounded.  
"Welcome home," He greeted without looking up.  
Mozart stood there, biting his lip.  
"I love you," He blurted out.  
Salieri stopped playing and looked up curiously.  
"Wolfgang, you look pale... What's wrong?"  
"I really, really love you... More than anything... You know that, right?"  
Salieri frowned.  
"Yes, I love you too, but what are you getting at?"  
"I'm worried for you. I went to see the Emperor-"  
"You what?" Salieri demanded, "Chi diavolo! Wolfgang, why would you-"  
"-He's worried about you too. Antonio please... We both think you just need some fresh air. Just for a little while, a trip out of Vienna."  
Salieri seemed to stop everything, even breathing. Mozart watched as his eyes unfocused and he nearly dropped his violin, his hands shaking.  
"'Out of Vienna?'" He repeated faintly.  
Mozart nodded, gently taking the violin and bow from him.  
"Just to travel a bit and then back home-"  
"I don't want to go home. Vienna is my home now."  
Mozart blinked, for a moment dumbfounded.  
"I mean Vienna, Antonio. Here, this place, home, your home."  
Salieri sat with his head in his hands.  
"Have I done something wrong?"  
"W-What?" Mozart stammered, setting the violin down, "No! No, of course not! I just thought about all the times we've talked about traveling and I thought maybe it might help you... We don't have to of course but you at least need some time off, I think... You haven't done anything wrong, nothing at all, we're just worried about you..."  
Mozart knelt down and his heart fell to floor as he realized the older composer sat crying, his head bowed forward.  
"Oh, Antonio... I'm so sorry, I just want to help you..." He mumbled before hugging him tightly, "I've got you, I promise."  
"I don't want to go... I don't want to go... Please... I'll stop..."  
"Okay, it's okay, we'll stay here, we'll stay in Vienna, calm down, it's okay..."  
Mozart reached up with the intention of brushing some of the tears away and gasped as Salieri jerked backwards defensively, protecting his face with one of his hands. Mozart sat there speechless in horror. He swallowed several times, thinking about what Joseph II had said and realizing he had seen this behavior before.  
"Okay... Easy Adone... It's me, it's lupo, it's okay... Deep breaths... You're safe, I promise. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you or send you anywhere you don't want to go, it's okay. It's okay, I love you..."  
"'Love'?" Salieri repeated quizzically.  
"Yes, I love you..."  
"... Lupo?"  
"That's right... Come back to me..." Mozart said softly, holding out his hands.  
Nothing prepared him to brace himself for the impact of Salieri's hug, sending them both to the floor. He clung to Mozart tightly like a drowning man.  
"That's it..." Mozart whispered, petting his hair, "I've got you... You're safe..."  
Mozart didn't know how long he laid on the floor holding Salieri, nor did he find himself caring. His mind was spinning, looking for solutions.  
"He was a bastard," Salieri said, his voice so soft that Mozart barely heard him, "A good man, yes.... But a bastard."  
Mozart gave him a comforting squeeze, feeling a surge of anger and nausea.  
"He can't hurt you anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> non toccarmi, fa male = Basically "Don't touch me, it hurts."
> 
> Fuga = Italian for "Fugue," Spanish slang for "Let's go," (apparently), and Romanian for "Run."


	2. Chapter 2

Mozart wrapped Salieri's hands around a hot cup of cocoa and re-situated the blanket around his shoulders. It had taken some time to get him to calm down this far, but now he sat quietly on the floor, looking at nothing somberly.  
"I'm sorry," He said finally.  
"Don't be," Mozart replied, looking into his own cup, "You have nothing to be sorry for."  
Salieri sighed, closing his eyes.  
"When I was still young and in his care I ran some small errands one day without his consent... The next day he told his cabby he was sending me home, back to Italy..."  
Mozart sat rooted to the spot, feeling his ears burn. It was so rare to hear anything about Salieri's past that he listened with rapt attention.  
"I was terrified... So terribly frightened... I confessed everything, sobbing... I didn't want to go back... I didn't want to stay with him, but I hardly wanted to go back..."  
Mozart swallowed as he watched Salieri's hand unconsciously touch his face.  
"The bastard started laughing. He set the entire thing up... I spent the rest of my years with him in fear of going back... Not even the Emperor could ease my worry... There was a point, eventually, Gassmann was aging, sick from an accident, a carriage injury... His Majesty declared to me and me alone that I was to stay, to be his musician, that my place was here, in Vienna... He told me this was home for me now..."  
"This is your home," Mozart said quietly.  
Salieri nodded.  
"Yes, it is..."  
A knock on the door made them both look up. Salieri looked at Mozart.  
"No announcement? Strange... Would you mind?"  
Mozart got up and opened the door to find one of Joseph II's guards.  
Salieri started to rise from the floor, looking worried.  
"His Majesty Joseph II requests the presence of you both."  
Mozart tried to give Salieri a reassuring smile.

"Thank you both for seeing me on such short notice," Joseph II said smoothly, watching both composers fidget nervously, "You can both relax. Everyone else is dismissed."  
Mozart glanced at Salieri, watching his gaze follow the leaving guards anxiously.  
"I confess I called you both here out of concern-"  
"Everything is fine your majesty," Salieri said quickly, "Mozart simply got ahead of himself, as he is prone to do. I-"  
Salieri faltered, realizing his faux pas.  
Joseph II gave him a tired smile and waved a hand.  
"You haven't interrupted me since you were a youth," He said fondly, "I think Herr Mozart was quite right... Antonio, you've been through a lot these past few years, I think some air would do you some good. Don't worry, everything will be here for you exactly as you left it, your household, your family, and your students will be well cared for."  
Salieri looked at Mozart with a distressed frown.  
"This is-"  
"Perfectly acceptable. You had no trouble traveling abroad for work."  
"That was different, your majesty... That was for work."  
Joseph II sighed.  
"Fine, so be it. Antonio, why don't you go a few places and give me an ear as to what kind of music other countries are listening to? I trust only you to do so."  
Salieri's expression thinned, he looked unhappy.  
"Your majesty..."  
"It is that or I place you on temporary medical leave, Antonio, pick one."  
Salieri paled, his long fingers gripped the chair, and Joseph II sighed.  
"And now I have errored... Antonio, forgive me, but you simply cannot stay in this state of mind. Let yourself relax, old friend."  
Mozart reached out and set a hand on top of Salieri's, stroking his fingers with his thumb.  
"Fine... I'll go..."  
"That's the spirit... Well, sort of. Think about this, Antonio... You can take yourself and young Mozart here anywhere the two of you like... With as much privacy as you desire... The two of you will want for nothing while you travel..."  
An intrigued look started to spread across Salieri's face before it turned to dismay.  
"You know?" He whispered faintly.  
"You made it pretty clear when you declared your undying love for him in my office while bleeding and dripping all over my floor."  
Salieri starred at Joseph II in horror and Mozart squeezed his hand gently.  
"Antonio, be easy. Your secret will be kept."  
Tears burned Salieri's eyes as he bowed his head.  
"Your majesty..."  
"I'd like to speak with Mozart just for a few moments, if you don't mind. I want you to think things over, take your time, and then come back to me and let me know your decision and your plans. I will make the necessary arrangements."  
"Thank you, your majesty..."  
Salieri bowed, glanced at Mozart with a look that made his heart crack and stepped out. It was a look he would have expected years ago, one he had seen before, yet much rawer. He winced.  
"He doesn't understand yet," Joseph II said with a smile, watching Mozart fondly, "He may be hurt now but once he settles down it will be alright."  
"This doesn't seem to be a surprise to you, sir..." Mozart said softly.  
Joseph II shrugged.  
"A handsome young devil like Antonio still a bachelor when he can have any woman of his choosing, many of which would find him quite exotic? I know him quite well, Wolfgang, well enough to know his heart is yours... Well enough to know that must have frightened badly him at first. I wanted to see him up close for myself, to assess his condition... Now that I've seen him I want to caution you with it. He has placed more trust in you than he has anyone else. I know some of what you are up against, and I wish you luck and I ask you to please, please have patience. He is worth it, I assure you. Do not, I ask of you, do not break that man's heart."  
Mozart smiled.  
"Of that sir, I have no doubt, and have no fear."  
Mozart stepped out into the hall and found Salieri waiting for him with the same expression. His face fell as he followed him out into the street and he was quiet as they walked a ways.  
"Antonio, please don't be angry with me..." Mozart tried.  
There was no response, nor were there any words when they entered the house. To Mozart's surprise Salieri pulled the wig off his head and dropped into a chair, rubbing his face with his free hand, looking exhausted.  
"Antonio, I love you... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, I just-"  
"Stop. Just stop..."  
Mozart bit his lip in worry, a different kind of fear starting to knot in his chest. Salieri stood up and crossed the distance between them, looking at Mozart with an unreadable expression.  
"Adone..."  
Salieri kissed him searchingly, his hands finding his waist as he backed Mozart against the wall. Mozart gasped in surprise as Salieri looked away with tears. He nodded to himself before resting his head against Mozart's shoulder.  
"Would you play for me for awhile? I don't want to think..."  
Mozart nodded, running his fingers lightly through Salieri's hair.  
"Anything you like."

Mozart watched Salieri sleep on the couch from where he sat at the piano, looking at the slight frown on his face, but no nightmare caused him to stir. Eventually even the frown slipped away as Mozart played. He played well into the night, several hours passing, his hands starting to cramp until he had to take a moment to flex his fingers. He cursed as Salieri's eyes opened.  
"I'm sorry, I just needed a moment," Mozart said, "I'll keep playing..."  
Salieri glanced at the clock near the wall and then sat up.  
"Lupo, are you quite mad?" He asked tiredly. He frowned and got up, taking Mozart's hands in his own and looking at him, "Have you been playing this entire time?"  
Mozart nodded with a small smile. Salieri kissed his hands, his wrists, pushing his sleeves back to start kissing his arms before he looked up at Mozart earnestly.  
"Oh..." Mozart said smally, as the long hands slipped around his waist.  
Wordlessly Salieri picked him up and carried him to their room.

He spent awhile kissing and caressing Salieri's marks, but now it was different, his eyes burned as his fingers slipped over smooth skin broken by scar tissue. He felt the difference in the way Salieri touched him, in his love, in the kisses stolen with a hint of desperation. Mozart tried to offer comfort in any fashion he could think of, very aware of how vulnerable his companion was. At some point Salieri buried his face in his shoulder, his voice barely audible, the tone broken.  
"You deserve to know..."  
"I don't want to hurt you," Mozart replied.  
"I know..."  
Salieri took one of his hands and in a voice Mozart strained his ears for he told Mozart the story of each of his scars, guiding his fingers over the surfaces. It wasn't but a few in and Mozart found himself crying. Salieri told him of Gassmann, of his childhood, of things on the streets, of his early treatment in Austria, of his own desperation. He fell silent and slumped against Mozart, spent. Mozart wrapped his limbs around him protectively, petting his hair and did not move even as Salieri fell back asleep, never stirring once.

Mozart was still wide awake as the sun spilled into the room, he barely noticed at first when Salieri's eyes opened and he raised his dark head, his expression dazed before falling to displeasure.  
"I suppose I hardly look to be of any refinery... Between what you knew of me before and what you know me now. Pathetic. You understand that I don't belong here."  
Mozart placed his hands over Salieri's mouth, starring.  
"Are you shitting me?" He breathed.  
Salieri blinked, surprised.  
"Damn it to hell, Antonio... If I had any idea... I... No, look, listen, you're better than all of them... If anyone belongs here it's you. And God, I'm so proud of you... I never would have... Jesus..."  
Mozart stumbled over his words, trying to think of something to say but also ruthlessly shoving every apology that tried to come up back down, knowing instinctively those were not the words Salieri needed. He found himself crying again.  
"Lupo..." Salieri sighed, brushing his face, "Did you sleep at all? You're so pale..."  
Mozart hugged him tightly.  
"No. It's okay. I love you."  
Salieri looked at him skeptically.  
"Lupo..."  
"You needed sleep," Mozart insisted, desperate for something to say. In his mind everything he could think of he felt would make the situation worse.  
Salieri sighed.  
"Ti amo, lupo..."  
"Let's just have a quiet day in, shall we?" Mozart tried, "I want to hear more of what you are working on, please."  
"... As you wish."

Mozart awoke that night to find himself alone in the bed. Startled and concerned he lit a candle and made his way around the house, softy calling Salieri's name.  
He froze in the doorway of the study, he could see sheet music strewn about the floor chaotically. An ink well had been broken in the process, soaking through several of the pieces, staining the floor. He anxiously picked one of them up and realized he didn't recognize the hand when a faint noise caught his attention.  
"Antonio?" He whispered.  
He raised the candle higher and the light fell dimly on a figure huddled against the wall.  
"Oh, my sweet Adone..."  
Mozart dropped the sheet music and crossed the room quickly, setting the candle down on a table. He swallowed hard. Salieri sat curled in a ball, his hands gripping his hair, shivers running through his body.  
"May I touch you?"  
The only reply Mozart received was a hoarse, muffled sound somewhere between a cry and a wheeze. Shoving caution aside Mozart hugged him tightly, rubbing his back. The action caused Salieri to break down sobbing, grabbing ahold of the back of Mozart's shirt.  
Mozart opened his mouth, realized he had nothing to say, and then closed it, burying his face in Salieri's hair.  
Salieri choked on an apology and Mozart made a face.  
"Don't you dare apologize... Just let it out... You're safe..."  
Some time passed until Salieri fell quiet, and even in the lighting of the candle, now burning low, Mozart could see his exhaustion.  
"I'm sorry... I didn't want to wake you," Salieri said, his voice barely audible.  
"Oh God, Antonio, no... Please, if you need something you wake me, I'm here for you," Mozart insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze, "I don't care what is going on, what has happened, you let me know... You should get some rest, I'll clean this up."  
Salieri hid his face.  
"I don't want to sleep... Or more accurately, I don't want to dream."  
Mozart was quiet for a moment.  
"Let me play for you. What are these pieces all over the floor?"  
"Gassmann. I keep them in a folder locked in my desk... I haven't looked at them in years..."  
An icy chill spread through Mozart at those words and he tried to wrap his arms around Salieri more protectively.  
"That's enough of that for tonight, just relax. I'll get you a blanket."

Mozart played until he couldn't play any more, and when his hands gave out as dawn started to break he switched to singing, situating himself against the couch and looking at Salieri with worry. His face was gaunt, the circles around his eyes now a deep black, his check bones starting to stand out sharply as his appetite died.  
He took one of Salieri's hands and kissed his fingers, tears starting to slip down his own face, worry gnawing at his insides.  
"Lupo..."  
Mozart cursed himself for waking Salieri.  
"It's okay, go back-"  
"No..."  
He bit his lip as Salieri sat up with a sigh, reaching out and brushing his tears away.  
"I didn't mean-"  
"Hush."  
Mozart fell still and sat there awkwardly as Salieri's thumb stroked his cheek.  
"You're right," He said finally, leaning forward and kissing Mozart gently.  
"About?" Mozart breathed as Salieri pulled him into a hug.  
"We both need some time, a break... I don't like the idea, but you can't do this any more than I can."  
"I can," Mozart said defensively, "I can look after you, I can help, I can protect you, Antonio, I swear to you-"  
"Shh... That isn't at all what I mean, lupo, but you can't spend every night playing for me. Think... We'll go then... As long as I have you with me I'll be fine."  
Mozart hugged him tightly.  
"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to..." He mumbled.  
"Sometimes, lupo, we have to."  
"Antonio, there are-"  
"Shh... Lupo, I can place the same trust in you as you place in me... It never seems to matter to you where you are if I am with you, I've been amazed by that... You act as though you feel completely safe..."  
"I do..." Mozart said hesitantly, frowning, "Always."  
"Instinctively you know I would tear down a city block by hand before I let anything happen to you..."  
Mozart nodded.  
"You know you can trust me with whatever you have to say, whatever stories and memories, hurts, concerns, feelings, thoughts you may have..."  
"Yes, of course."  
Salieri nodded and sighed again, before he tried to smile.  
"I need to give you that same trust."  
Mozart blinked.  
"Antonio, you trust me already, I don't want to pry, It's-"  
Salieri shook his head.  
"No. When I say this I mean that I need to. I want to. It's something I want to do and I need your help to do it... Which you already give me. I need to actually trust you with my life to realize it's not just a concept."  
Mozart swallowed, the idea of Salieri's life in his hands reminding him strongly of a few years ago.  
"I'm not going to go out and do something reckless... But perhaps you and the Emperor are on to something... Perhaps I do need to get out and see more of the world..."  
"I don't want to force you to leave home..."  
Salieri smiled and Mozart breathed a sigh of relief, it was the first genuine smile he had see cross his face in days.  
"Lupo, this is something I have only just realized... I wondered why I did not dream with you playing... Why I slept better with you near... Why the sound of your voice put me at ease... I didn't understand... Oh, lupo, grazie... I've realized I'm not leaving home at all... I'm taking my home with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So unfortunately the incident Salieri speaks of at the beginning of this chapter is true, Gassmann was really that much of a dick. The memory and fear stuck with the real Salieri for a very long time.


End file.
